Tainted
by WonderPickle
Summary: Years ago, at a party, Toby saw the most beautiful girl. For only a second, he caught a glimpse of her face. And he's never let that face go. Even now. Quintis AU, one-shot.


Once upon a time, Toby saw this girl.

But he never caught her name, never heard her voice. They shared eye contact for a fleeting second. He'd held onto that second, onto that face, for every day since. Years later, he still couldn't let go. She'd been etched into his memory like a drawing carved in stone.

He'd seen her a dozen times since, he'd seen her a hundred times, he'd seen her more times than he could count, but not once had she been there. Her eyes would blink down at him during those early hours of the morning after soberness had long since faded.

Toby had given up on finding her. He'd spent weeks afterward trying to locate the beautiful girl he shared a second of eye contact with at a party.

But there was no path she set that he could follow.

And for every day since, that girl never failed to cross his vision at least once. He'd met and seen a lot of people in his life. She remained the most beautiful.

Some of the more intricate details had faded away against the mercy of time. Whenever she entered his mind, and her face was a little less clear than it used to be, it brought uncomfortable pangs to his chest. Every time was a reminder he was further away from that life, from her.

The raindrops fell against him as they shot down from the sky, further drenching the entirety of his clothes. Toby was too miserable to care.

The alcohol had taken over his senses what seemed like forever ago, but was only a few hours. His vision was hazy. And now, of course, it was tainted by her face.

She seemed additionally blurry tonight. Maybe it was just the extra beatings he'd received _really_ kicking in. Or maybe he was just trying to grasp onto her a little tighter, but she didn't want to be held.

Sometimes that happened.

He remembered first seeing her that night, with her leather jacket, dark boots, and irritated expression seeming like she couldn't give any less of a care in the world. For years he'd wondered why she was even at that party if she scowled like that. He'd never gotten the chance to ask.

He hadn't even gotten a _hello_ out before he was whisked away into the crowd. It'd always been frustrating. What could've happened if he'd actually gotten to have a conversation with the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen?

Unsteadily, Toby ran his fingers through his wet hair.

There were so many possibilities as to where she could've ended up. Maybe she lived across the world. In Portugal or something. Maybe she was married. Maybe she became successful. He hoped she did.

He hadn't made it much farther than the place he was in all those years ago. He was still alone. Tied down by the shackles of his addiction, bound by the hold it had on him. He was a brilliant psychiatrist, that was true, but he'd turned empty and broken. Gambling sliced through all the pieces of his life and completely shattered them.

Tonight's adventure in the casino left him with less money than he walked in with, and some severely bruised ribs. He knew he'd lost big time, just not how much. He'd barely stumbled out of there on two feet, let alone been able to count the amount of cash was in his pocket, if there was any at all.

He was even worse off now than ever. Back then he'd thought a lot more people would've been amazed by the intelligence of a genius doctor, who just took his first steps into the world of psychiatry. Now nobody wanted to talk with him, the guy losing his money night after night, sometimes showing up to his sessions drunk off his ass.

And all the while that girl from years ago, a stamp imprinted in his brain, flashed her face during the bad times. He'd never even gotten her name. But she was always there.

Though he studied human behavior for so long, he wasn't able to exactly figure out why she appeared to him. Sometimes in a dream, but usually in the midst of a period of painful loneliness. Since Amy left him, it'd only gotten worse. Moments of once enjoyable solitude were now touched by misery. It often led him to the nearest casino, to the race tracks, or even to online poker games if the urge was strong enough not to give him time to leave his apartment.

That girl was a ghost from his past. The past of the kid from Coney Island who wanted to help people suffering like his parents. The guy that thought he could've had any girl he wanted to at that party when he stepped through the door, but later the realized the only girl he desired, was nowhere to be found.

He doubted a girl looking like she did would've wanted him, anyways. But sometimes Toby wondered what would've happened if he hadn't gotten pulled away, and they _had_ gotten the chance to talk.

He couldn't be too sure if she would've liked him.

But even if she did, good things in his life rarely stayed anyway. When they happened to, he usually ended up destroying them in one way or another.

Maybe if they'd been together, and they hadn't worked out, he'd have a different face that paid him wordless visits in his times of solitude. Maybe she would've gotten out of his system years ago.

Toby exhaled through the space between his lips, leaning back against the wet park bench. Heavy raindrops continued to fall into the scruff along his jawline, splashing against his soaked clothes and onto the metal seat underneath him.

He felt no urge to get up, no reason to leave. He had nowhere to go. Nowhere to get back to. No _one_ to get back to.

Through the haziness of his sight, he saw a figure walk against the rain, the only person to come near him for as long as he'd been there. He didn't look up.

They took a seat next to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed their position was on the end of the bench, far away from him as possible.

The person had a dark hood on their face, obscuring it from him. Clearly they weren't up for small talk.

The rain fell faster down his head, dripping from his forehead onward.

"Must've been a rough night," Toby spoke up, turning his head towards the other person, "if you've gotten nothing better to do than sit on a park bench with a stranger in the rain."

They reached up to pull their hood down, "Look, dude, I-"

And he felt _everything_ around him come to a stop.

The rain on his exposed skin, the weight of the night's events pushing him down, the effect of the alcohol, didn't touch him. He sobered up real quick.

His body was pulled upwards, his mouth skyrocketing into a smile bigger than his cheeks could hold. His eyes widened.

Toby's stomach twisted with butterflies of pent up excitement. He thought he was going to vomit.

The face he'd been seeing for years, the face that visited him when he had no one left, the face that drove him crazy for weeks because he couldn't find it again, was sitting right in front of him.

He had to blink to make sure it was real.

It seemed like it was.

Her eyes were more beautiful than he'd remembered. Dark orbs that appeared dangerous and closed off.

Her features were wet with rain, but they still looked the same. High cheekbones, defined jawline, perfectly arched eyebrows, gorgeously pink lips. Her face stormed with irritation, some of which was probably directed at him. Her dark hair still curled the same way.

His mouth went dry.

His whole body shook.

"It's…" he struggled to say, "it's you."


End file.
